Blue is the color of Grace
by Lue Meldane
Summary: "Ace would learn much too late for his liking that the day he met the Whitebeard Pirate's first division commander, the blond man with a weird hairstyle, was the day he found his saving grace." It might be a series, but I'm not sure. The first chapter can be read as a stand alone. If there's a second one, it will be a continuation of the first, but will have it's own closure.
1. Salvation

It was true that Ace was grateful to Whitebeard. He was beyond grateful, actually. Edward Newgate was the one person who was willing to call him "son" and that came with no price tag. He would kill and die for his Oyaji. But the link he had with the man was not his first sense of family. To Ace, Garp was as much his grandfather as he was Luffy's. He considered Dadan and the mountain thieves a weird and dysfunctional, yet very dear family. He had Luffy and Sabo, his beloved brothers. It was not a matter of importance - both the Whitebeard Pirates and the people he left behind in the Dawn Island were equally important and he loved every one of them with the same intensity. But Ace had a darkness that crept up inside of him that none of them could get through.

It had nothing to do with Roger, as he liked to claim. It had in the beginning, since the Pirate King's blood coursing through his veins was the reason why he was forced to learn about hate and violence at such an young age as he did. But it didn't anymore. During his journey through the seas of the world Ace had come across people who loved and hated Gol D. Roger, who idolized and demonized the legendary man. He was able to understand that Roger himself was neither a saint nor a demon, but as human as the next man. It soothed his soul a little, lifted part of the heavy weights he carried on his shoulder since he was a child. But the void that was once created inside his chest could not be filled by understanding alone. He lived the most vulnerable time of his life feeling like his very existence was the greatest of the sins. He felt unwanted, he felt alone, he felt like he didn't deserve love and and that the hatred he received served him just right. He simply couldn't shake this feeling off. It ran too deep within his being, at a depth that not even Luffy or Whitebeard could reach.

It is true that the brunette had learn to live with that awful feeling. He wouldn't go as far as to say that it didn't hurt anymore, but it certainly wasn't as crippling as it once was. Ace was fairly certain that it was his fate to live like that, forever in search for fulfillment. It was his journey - fruitless and endless. He knew his life would change the day he met Whitebeard, but he wasn't aware at the time that the relentless fate he once accepted would do as well. And as grateful as he was towards his captain, the crucial existence that single handed threw Ace's life for a loop was not that of the gigantic man, but that of the one who was standing by his right side.

Ace would learn much too late for his liking that the day he met the Whitebeard Pirate's first division commander, the blond man with a weird hairstyle, was the day he found his saving grace.

He had no memories of being carried to the whale-like ship, the Moby Dick, as he was unconscious. His wounds and his exhaustion from the fight with Jimbei knocked him out for three days. Without waiting for his consent, the ship set sail with him onboard - Whitebeard was not someone who could afford simply hanging out in an improperly guarded place after all. The next thing he remembered was waking up to an unfamiliar empty room and leaving it to be grazed by a very very familiar salty breeze. He allowed himself to panic for a moment, pulling at his hair as if to wake himself up from a nightmare. When the strange guy dressed as a cook appeared, introduced himself as Tatch and explained his situation, fear and desperation were overpowered by sheer anger and he made the first attempt against Newgate's life.

As the days went by, he continued trying and pitifully failing to kill Whitebeard, being sent flying through the air each time and often having to be rescued from the sea. When he wasn't executing his murderous plans, he observed the crew he was currently amongst. They were very interesting and joyful and Ace just couldn't make any sense out of them. How could they be so friendly with the enemy onboard? How could they be so kind to the man who was trying to kill his beloved captain? Why did they try so hard to break through his walls and make him a part of them? He watched everyone and each one of them as well. They all had very particular personalities and anyone would think that a bunch of eccentric fellows like them could not coexist in the same environment, yet they did and Ace would not admit it out loud at the time, but it was beautiful.

His eyes were always dragged, however, by the sight of blond hair. Marco, the Phoenix, was even more different from the rest of his crew than the members were between themselves. He was more stoic, expressing neither joy nor sorrow easily. And that's exactly why it was so meaningful when he did. He always wore a mature expression that seemed to give away the real intensity and deepness of his being. It could be the aura that came along with the power of such a mysterious and mystic creature as the Phoenix, but sometimes it seemed to Ace that Marco was a person that came from another time and another place. His eyes held the sort of serene wisdom that only an ancient being, who came to comprehend the world as it really was and accepted it, could bear.

That's why the day that Marco left a bowl of hot soup by his side without saying a word, he felt a warm sensation spreading throughout his body. He was physically tired from trying to kill Whitebeard on everyday basis and mentally exhausted from trying to make sense of the situation he was in. He, who was always unwelcomed in the places he wanted to be, was now being welcomed in a place he never asked to join. He didn't have to make an effort to be accepted and that was just surreal. The real world was fighting against the part of his brain who was convinced that he didn't deserve any affection and it was driving Ace to his break point. When even the man who seemed so out of this world showed his silent kindness, he felt the urge to ask about everything, because if Marco didn't have the answer, no one else would.

"Why do you guys call him your father anyway?" he asked in a tone way more defiantly than he intended.

"Because he calls us his sons." he answered. It was so simple that to anyone it would sound foolish. Yet the feelings conveyed by the way Marco said it touched the very core of his heart. "To the rest of the world we're all just outcasts. It makes us happy. It is just a word, but it makes us happy!" the blonde continued, flashing a smile so bright that blinded Ace for a moment. It was the words that made tears fill up his eyes and it was the smile that made his heartbeat speed up. Anything that could make a man like Marco smile like a little child was bound to be powerful and he was invited to be a part of such a strong bond. It was so amazing that he actually couldn't bring himself to believe it.

He crossed his arms over his knees and hid his face, trying to stop the tears from rolling down. He sensed the blond haired man turn around and approach him and suddenly his heart made an attempt to jump off his chest. Marco's presence was so warm and so strong that it made him shiver. The man then knelt in front of him and spoke again.

"Hey, how long are you gonna keep risking your life like this? Make up your mind already! You can't possibly take the old man's head the way you are now. Are you gonna get off this ship and start over or are you gonna stay here and accept Whitebeard's mark?" he said firmly, yet softly, showing genuine concern. Ace could lie to himself and say that staying on the ship was a choice he made after that talk with Marco, but the truth is that by the end of the conversation there was no choice at all. Despite the doubts that his overactive and traumatized mind insisted to bring to light, his heart had already chosen to stand by the man who dared to call him his son and by the man whose eyes seemed capable to lay bare any soul.

Ace didn't know how much time they stayed like that before he felt a warm touch in his forearm. Marco had stretched his arm and his big hand (way bigger than Ace's) gripped his limb. It was only then that the brunette realized he was shaking like a leaf in the middle of a storm. It surprised him and he lifted his head, eyes opened wide. What would the commander of the first division think after seeing him in such a fragile state? Would Ace appear weak to his eyes? But what he saw in those deep black orbs were far from pity or disappointment. Marco's eyes were as wide as his, as if he didn't expect that the other man would be so affected. After looking deeply into the boy's eyes, his expression softened as if in that brief moment he understood Ace's entire life and every single one of his feelings.

The boy felt exposed, but contrary to what even he would expect from himself, he didn't pull away from the touch nor tried to hide back in his shell. He let Marco see him, all of him. The man then gave him a reassuring and very fond smile, as if to say that everything would be alright. And for the first time in his life, Ace believed it.


	2. Damnation

Marco knew he was in trouble the moment he touched Ace's arm. To that point he had only seen him as an energetic, stubborn and kind of naive kid. But the moment his hand touched the pale skin and he felt just how much the boy was shaking, he realized that underneath the mask was a very broken and very fragile human being. It tore his heart apart just thinking about what hardships he faced in so few years of existence - precisely the years that should be filled with innocent happiness. There was loneliness in those eyes and they had the aggravated look of someone who was desperately looking for something. It was sad, really. But at the same time he felt slightly scared, 'cause if he was honest with himself, he would acknowledge that at that very moment he felt a magnetic pull towards the boy. He felt a sort of visceral instinct of protection. He wished he was present in the boy's life from the beginning and that he could have fought all of his demons before they could damage him so much.

It was very unusual of him to feel so agitated. He was usually the very definition of serenity. But now there was a warm feeling forming in his gut and spreading throughout his body. He kept looking into the pair of black orbs in front of him and he saw the walls within his soul fall apart one by one. The boy was letting him in the way he never let anyone before. Marco felt thrilled. Actually, he felt aroused. It was a very inappropriate way to feel about someone half his age and barely known and he had the decency to feel self-conscious about his reactions to the boy. For the first time in a very long time, the blonde didn't know what to do next.

Or rather, he knew he should let go and walk away. Things were spinning out of his control and it was never a good sign. But his body was reluctant to do so, to lose contact with the milky skin that he was now hyper aware of. He put on his best facade, successfully hiding how affected he was, and offered what should be a kind and reassuring smile. That was what Ace needed right now. The boy's eyes filled with awe at the gesture and it became painfully clear that he was not used to any kind of tenderness, that he didn't know what to do with such a thing. Once again, Marco's heart tightened in his chest and he was overcome with the urge to hug the small body, give him the affection he so desperately needed, but he refrained. It was not his place to do so, he had no connection whatsoever with the boy and it would only scare him away.

He gave a soft squeeze in the brunette's arm and then released it, stood up and left. After their conversation, Ace would need space to make up his mind about his future. Marco scratched the back of his head as he walked away, realizing with a little embarrassment that he was actually worried about the other's decision. He caught himself wishing Ace would chose them.

When he reminisced about that day a few years later, Marco realized that, unconsciously, what he wished for was that Ace would chose him.

After their talk under the golden sunset light, everything changed drastically. Ace accepted the mark and joined the crew for good. He turned out to be quite the extroverted guy, always sporting a bright smile and cracking jokes about everything and everyone. He drank and ate and laughed with everybody like he was born among them. He also slept anytime and anywhere, especially after eating, which showed how much confidence he put on his now brothers. To anyone who witnessed his displays of boyish joyfulness, it would seem like all the darkness inside of him had finally subsided.

But Marco knew better. About Ace, Marco always knew better.

It was not that Ace wasn't happy. It was more likely that he was living some of the happiest days of his life, compared only to those spend with his brothers. But sometimes Marco caught him staring at the horizon with eyes that were too serious for such a young boy. When there was no one around and therefore no need to pretend nor please, Ace let himself dwell on those agonizing sensations that still haunted him. The feeling that he was undeserving of everything he had, the feeling that all was a cruel fleeting illusion and that, at some point, someone would discover his dirty little secrets and he would be cast aside, left behind, abandoned, mistreated, abused.

It was not rational. In his mind, Ace didn't doubt his comrades. His faith in his brothers and his father was not fake nor feeble. But the hatred he had faced was too strong and the wounds it left ran too deep. It was clear as day in every occasion Marco accidentally came across Ace in one of those solitary moments. Marco would be strolling around the deck after getting tired of fighting his insomnia or would be on watch duty when his eyes caught sight of the figure standing alone, elbows propped on the ship's rails, eyes lost somewhere between the darkness of the ocean and the brightness of the starlit sky.

He would stop in his tracks and stay still, even his breath going shallow as if to not disturb or intrude in Ace's personal moment. It wouldn't work, never did. Ace had some sort of sixth sense when it came to him and the blond could never slip away unnoticed if the boy was around. Ace would turn his eyes towards him and smile faintly. Sometimes his eyes would be unusually wet. He never bothered to dry them or to cover his face or even dismiss the moment as something different than it was. Despite the mask he wore to the world, Ace never tried to hide his sadness from Marco.

He knew that Marco knew. He wanted Marco to know.

Marco's blood would boil every time. To the point that he clenched his fists until the flesh broke under his nails. Ace was there, in front of him, hurt and exposed, showing his open wounds and unconsciously waiting, pleading with his eyes for Marco to lick them close. For Marco to take away the pain. For Marco to save him from that dark place he was trapped in. And for all that was holy in this world, Marco wanted to comply. To acquiesce to the boy's wishes. To close the distance between them and to touch the small body with his hands and lips until the only thing that Ace could remember was his taste, his smell, the pressure of his body against his smaller one. But he wouldn't. He would never.

Marco wasn't a fool. Some would say he was actually a very wise man. He was conscious of the fact that the relationship he had with Ace was not one exclusively of camaraderie or fraternity. It was not the same kind of relationship the boy had with the rest of the crew. In that gilded eventide when they spoke for the first time, an unique bond was created. After that, Ace's eyes would follow him around and his own would always fall immediately on the brunette, wherever they were. Sometimes their eyes would accidentally meet and there was a fraction of second where time would stand still and so much would be exchanged in those brief crossed looks that they couldn't even name it. Sometimes Marco would stand a bit too close so their shoulder or legs would brush lightly. Ace would blush furiously, but would let it linger. Marco would want to kiss those rosy and freckled cheeks until the boy melted into his arms, until he came undone.

He was not the kind of man who lied to himself. He acknowledged the nature of his feelings towards the boy. He desired him in a wild and visceral way. It was not something that had developed with time, no. It was there from the very beginning. Since the first time he touched him, there was this burning and this ache in his gut, this fever that shook him whenever Ace was involved, either in fact or in thought. And there was the anger and possessiveness that overcame him when he saw Ace being friendly with someone that wasn't family. He had to use every ounce of self control he had to keep from snatching the boy away, to keep from burning holes into the strangers with his eyes (and sometimes in a less figurative way too). But it was not only lust. There were also tenderness and love involved. He wanted to caress the pale skin, to cover it with light kisses and tender touches until Ace was whole again. Until he felt loved and needed. Because at this point, Marco needed him as much as he needed oxygen. He couldn't even form a scenery in his mind where Ace wasn't there. Despite his responsibilities to the crew as their commander, to protect and care for the brunette was part of his resolve as much as to see Whitebeard crowned Pirate King.

And he was corresponded. Although still quite naive, as he should be in his age, Ace was far from innocent and pure. He had traveled the world and had tasted its pleasures as much as its sorrows. Marco had seen him disappearing into the night with both men and women and coming back disheveled and marked. It drove him mad. Fury was not a suitable word to describe how he had felt in those moments. It was way too mild. To know that someone had touched Ace, had left their trace imprinted in the milky skin, the same way Marco so desperately wanted to, made his insides churn violently and he had to walk away. He would wander into town and pick a fight or a woman to appease his anger.

It didn't help that every time Ace came back from his escapades, he would pointedly search Marco's crazed eyes and smile weakly to him, as if he was saying that it could have been him. That it should have been him.

But Marco couldn't. As much as he wanted - and God, did he want it! - he couldn't. Ace was barely an adult, still a boy in Marco's eyes. A damaged boy in search for the meaning of his life and for a place in this world where he truly belonged. It wasn't a surprise that Ace would turn to Marco, the first person to truly connect with him after his family. An older and reliable person whom could offer comfort, advice and stability among the chaos. He had let himself be vulnerable in front of the blond, showed him his torn flesh and broken bones. Acting upon his own desires was unthinkable, because Marco felt like if he did it, he would be taking advantage of Ace's trust in him. He would be exploiting Ace's pain to his benefit, to fulfill his own twisted cravings. Because Ace was someone unaccustomed with amorous feelings of any kind. It was very possible that he was mistaking the safety he felt when he was with Marco, the affection he had searched for so long, with love and lust.

So, Marco never acted upon his feelings. Every time Ace pleaded with his eyes for Marco to finally put an end to their misery, he would bite the inside of his mouth or clench his fists, using the pain to anchor himself to reality. Because he was on the edge and his resolve was weakening within each passing day. Each passing minute. But he would not leave. He would swallow down his desires until they suffocated him, but he would never leave Ace's side when he was feeling sad and lonely. Because whatever else he felt, he also loved the damn boy with all his heart and if he had to die inside to make the world a better place for Ace, he would do it gladly.


End file.
